


Yes, Chef

by GabesBeanie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanzo is a food critic, Jesse is a chef, M/M, Pre-Relationship, chef, cooking au, hispanic!McCree, where are all the chef AUs I need more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GabesBeanie/pseuds/GabesBeanie
Summary: Hanzo has traveled the world sampling the works of the finest chefs. Can one Santa Fe son-of-a-gun inspire him to put on his own chef-whites once more?





	Yes, Chef

Hanzo slid the key card into his hotel room door, pushing it open with a soft groan. Today had been exhausting. He tossed his satchel down and locked the door behind him with a firm click, hoping to lock the stress of the day out of his room as well.

No such luck.

Not bothering to kick off his shoes, he flopped back on the well-made bed and let out an admittedly childish groan of frustration.

Hanzo Shimada was a professional food critic, highly acclaimed and extremely nit-picky, or so said the restaurants he reviewed. Hanzo had spent the better half of a decade in the kitchen, working his way from line cook, to sous chef, and up to executive chef at a well-loved restaurant in his home town back in Japan. He knew his craft inside and out, and often busted out his knife set to create magic in the kitchen whenever he could during his busy schedule.

After his brother had left home years ago, Hanzo felt an unfamiliar restlessness settle within him. He still loved his craft, but he couldn’t stand the idea of living his life out in one kitchen. He began to visit other restaurants of all caliber, tasting their specialties and writing to his brother about their ups and downs – getting especially passionate about a meal’s shortcomings.

It was Genji who suggested he do it professionally.

“That way you can complain about shitty food, and all these people can agree with you! It’ll appease your ego and your grumpiness all in one!”

Despite the utter nonsense reasoning, Hanzo had to admit the idea had appeal.

He started up a blog with Genji’s help and posted his first review shortly after. He was amazed at the following he gathered after only a few reviews. Restauranteurs often agreed with his professional opinions and even some owners had contacted him in thanks for bringing in business or sent some rather colorful backlash.

It was pretty exciting.

The only true difficulty with his job had come fairly frequently as he had made a rather good name for himself as a food critic – some chefs invited him to their restaurants for a challenge, wanting to impress him with their superb cooking skills.

Those were the ones who did not take kindly to his harsher criticisms. Hanzo couldn’t help it, these so-called executive chefs overcooking a steak? It was laughable. It was an insult to the craft. He couldn’t help it if sometimes his dry temper took over, silver tongue slicing a hot-headed chef’s ego to julienned shreds.

He had just returned from a late lunch at a unique fusion restaurant in downtown Santa Fe called _Le BarbeQuoi_. _Quoi_ was right, since Hanzo had no idea _what_ the hell he was eating. The menu was overall strange, boasting a fusion of southern barbeque favorites with classic French cuisine. It could have been interesting but all it had amounted to was a plate of escargot drowned in honey barbecue sauce.

Thank god he didn’t eat any.

Hanzo had dared to put one in his mouth and promptly spat it back out muttering outraged curses in Japanese. His server had removed the plate and returned with the chef… if he could be called that.

What happened next was probably the worst verbal assault he had ever lain into a chef in his own restaurant, in front of his own customers. The haughty chef had come back at him, claiming he “didn’t know a damn thing about culinary arts and should keep his nose out of the kitchen.”

Oh yeah, that went over well.

Hanzo was hesitant to start typing up his review. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t completely tainted by his shitty interaction with the chef. He would save that for the last paragraph…

His stomach growled.

Right. He hadn’t eaten anything for lunch. Hanzo turned his head to look between a gap in the heavy curtains that covered the glass patio doors. It was already evening, dusk would be upon him soon. With a final sigh, he heaved himself up and slid into his loafers once more. He cracked open the patio doors and decided the summer evening was warm enough to forgo his jacket and roll up the sleeves of his dark shirt. He quickly retied his topknot and smoothed his fingers over his neat beard. Determined to go out for a simple and delicious meal, Hanzo trotted out the door and down the stairs of his hotel. The historic plaza was just a block away and a walk in the fresh air sounded perfect.

 

 

It was dusk by the time Hanzo made it to the plaza, twinkling fairy lights were strung across archways and in trellises placed artfully against the adobe walls of the shops around him. Tourists flowed like water down the pathways, laughing and taking pictures of the slice of paradise this area had carved out of an otherwise bustling city.

A few street vendors were packing up their handcrafted jewelry and Hanzo stopped to admire the works still laid out on the beautiful woven blankets they were spread across. On a whim, he purchased a turquoise embedded stud earring, a little souvenir to remember his pleasant evening in Santa Fe if nothing else. The bells of the plaza’s cathedral rang out low and soft on the summer air.

It had been a while since Hanzo had felt quite so at peace.

He passed a few restaurants as he went around the plaza, most were bustling and filled with people, loud music and vibrant smells wafting around him. If he were in such a mood, Hanzo would have gladly visited any of them, but given his day, he wanted nothing more than a quiet dining experience.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hanzo spotted exactly what he was looking for. Tucked in the corner of the plaza, a small restaurant with an artful sign reading _Ojo Rojo_ sat away from the crowds. Making his way over, Hanzo couldn’t help but notice the delightful spiciness that seemed to pour out of the door to the place.

Once inside, Hanzo decided to forgo the tables that sat hugging the dim and cozy walls of the place to situate himself on the far end of the bar. Only a few other patrons sat scattered around in pairs or solo, some munching on colorful food and others nursing cool drinks for the evening.

“Well howdy there.” A voice broke Hanzo out of his reverie. He looked up to see a tall man in a white chef’s jacket leaning against the other side of the bar. He had kind eyes on his weathered features, tan skin stretched over a pleasant face and surrounded by oaken scruff and a charming smile. “Welcome to _Ojo Rojo_ , _señor_. Have you graced my fine establishment here before?”

Hanzo couldn’t help but admire how that Southern drawl transitioned to beautiful rolling Spanish and back with ease. “I have not, I am just in town visiting,” he said.

“Well, ain’t this a treat!” The man beamed, clapping his hands together. Hanzo quickly noticed that the man’s left arm seemed to be a rather intricate prosthetic. “Nothing better than a new customer here to sample authentic Santa Fe cuisine at its finest!” The man stuck out his hand over the bar to shake, “The name’s McCree, Jesse McCree. I’ll be your chef-slash-bartender-slash-server for the evenin’.”

Hanzo felt an electric current go through him. Oh no. If he gave his name, then his man would know who he was. He would immediately go all _business_ to try to impress him with his food and get a good review on his blog. _Tch_ , Hanzo thought. _This was exactly what I wanted to avoid! I have had quite enough critiquing for one evening, I just want to enjoy my meal in peace!_

But… Looking at this chef’s earnest face, charming smile askew and hand still outstretched, Hanzo couldn’t help but want to take a chance. If nothing else, there was barely anyone else in the restaurant and this McCree seemed fairly easygoing…

Well. Fine.

Hanzo reached forward and shook the outstretched hand firmly, taking a moment to appreciate the other’s strong grip, “Hanzo.”

McCree didn’t show any outward signs of recognizing his first name and Hanzo breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Well then Hanzo, would you like to look at a menu? Or would you be opposed to me takin’ care of you this evenin’?” McCree asked, brandishing a cardstock menu.

Amused by the man’s playful antics, Hanzo let out a small laugh, “Since I have limited experience with this avenue of cuisine, I wouldn’t be averse to being at the whim of your expertise, Chef McCree.”

The chef tilted his head back with a loud bark of laughter, “Whim! I’ll show you ‘whim’, _hermoso_. Prepare to be swept away!” McCree turned back to the kitchen, which Hanzo fortunately had a straight-shot view into from where he was sitting. He watched McCree tie his loose hair back into a small ponytail at the back of his head and scrub his hands, his left covered in a glove, before pulling out knives and a plopping a brown paper bundle on the work counter.

Hanzo watched for a moment, twirling a cork-made coaster in his hands as he let himself get caught up in the cooking process. McCree suddenly stopped with a small “Oh!” and trotted back over to where Hanzo was sitting, a bashful smile on his face.

“Well ain’t I just the rudest, not even offering my newest customer a beverage while he waits.” McCree shook his head at himself and gripped his shirt dramatically, his left hand up in a mock salute. “I’m not always this hopeless, I swear!”

Hanzo laughed, flipping the coaster in his fingers, but before he could give a witty reply, McCree cut him off. “How about I treat you to a house specialty. Mamá didn’t raise me with no manners after all.”

“What exactly did you have in mind? Not just a shot of whiskey I hope.” Hanzo smirked.

“Hey now, ain’t nothin’ wrong with a good bourbon.” McCree admonished with a smile, pulling out various liqueurs and colored bottles. “But nah, what I’ve got I think you’ll like. S’one of my personal favorites.” He set to mixing the cocktail before pouring it in the shaker, giving it a bit of flair with a yelled _“¡Olé!”_

Pouring the mixture into a martini glass, he garnished the dark red drink with a ribbon of orange rind and slid it across the bar. “Here you go, _hermoso_. My world-famous huckleberry martini.”

Hanzo eyed the drink. Aesthetically, it was quite p— _nope_ , nope, he was here to relax, not overthink his meal. Giving the drink a little sniff, Hanzo took a hearty sip. The drink was dry, almost like cranberry juice, but with a lovely combination of bitterness and sweetness, the light acidity from the orange rind giving an encompassing balance that left his taste buds gently tingling.

“Wow…” He said, eyeing the drink with a light lick of his lips.

The grin McCree gave him was nothing short of beatific. “I’ll get started on that food o’ yours, hm?” And with that he turned and left Hanzo nursing what was swiftly becoming his new favorite drink. Well… Besides his favorite saké of course. That had a special place in his heart.

“So, where you from, _hermoso_?” A shout came from the kitchen, McCree having stuck his head out from around the corner to look at his guest. “Not every day I get a guest outta town, ‘specially not one quite so handsome.”

Hanzo felt his face heat at that comment and decided to cover it by taking another drink. “I live in New York at the moment. Though I am originally from Japan, a small town called Hanamura.”

“Hm, never heard of it! What’s it like?” McCree responded, yelling slightly over the sizzle of fresh meats. Hanzo couldn’t help but look around to see if anyone was annoyed at the loud conversation, but the only other patrons were seated further away and didn’t seem bothered. A lone busser took their dishes and wiped down empty tables with no sign of irritation.

Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder if McCree was like this all the time, then.

He spoke of his hometown, of the _sakura_ and the _matsuri,_ festivals held every spring to celebrate their bloom. He spoke of the castle perched on the tall hill at the center of the town, looking down upon its citizens with regal air.

“My brother lived there until he was twenty-five, and I left a year later to travel the world.” Hanzo shared, careful not to give out too many details about his work. He was enjoying his evening with this charismatic chef, and he was loathe for it to end due to a slip of the tongue.

“Well that sounds mighty fine,” McCree commented, returning to the bar with a plate. “Now this here is a play on fry bread, you ever had that before?”

Hanzo shook his head, though it looked exactly like what he said, fried bread. Though maybe just fried dough would be more accurate. “What is it?” He asked.

“This is inspired by a Native American meal, mighty tasty if you ask me. Usually it's made in a flat circle and you can pile it high with all sorts of meats and veggies.” McCree gestured to his plate that had smaller triangles of the bread with aforementioned toppings arranged artfully in the center of the platter. “This is basically the same thing but more bite-sized.”

Hanzo gently piled some toppings onto one of the pieces of fry bread and took a bite. “Oh mm.” He chewed and swallowed, “I didn’t expect it to have so much flavor.”

“Right?” McCree looked delighted. He fixed one up with practiced ease and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. “I love these things.”

They chatted a bit more between bites, Hanzo asking about McCree’s southern drawl: “Hey, that’s one-hundred percent authentic, thank you very much.” And McCree asking him about the tattoo he could see peeking out from Hanzo’s long sleeves: “Dragons are noble creatures of great strength and the symbol of my lineage.” McCree told him it made quite a bit of sense. Hanzo sniffed at him haughtily just to hear the other laugh.

“Let me go check on your next course,” McCree smiled, setting a glass of water on the bar and turning back to the kitchen with the empty plate. Hanzo glanced around and couldn’t help but notice that the restaurant had cleared out. Chairs were now stacked upside down on tables, and the main dining room lights were dimmed down to a soft orange glow.

A few minutes later McCree appeared back in the doorway and Hanzo couldn’t help but get excited to see what he had made next.

“Now these here are tamales, and let me tell ya, there’s nothing better than mamá’s homemade tamales.” McCree smiled, setting the plate down in front of Hanzo with a little flourish. It was a snuggly wrapped packet with a scoop of rice tucked up next to it. “Luckily for me, she made me help her when I was a young punk, so I got to learn the recipe first hand.” He quickly snatched a napkin-roll of cutlery from under the counter and handed it over.

Hanzo looked at the packet in front of him. It smelled enticing, but… “How do I… eat it?”

“Oh! Sorry,” McCree laughed nervously, his faced flushed at his oversight. “This here is the husk, you don’t eat that. We just use that to steam ‘em and keep the heat in.” He reached over with his own knife and fork and parted the husk, steam gushed up in a plume and _oh_ that smelled amazing. “Now this outer layer is _masa_ , kind of a pressed corn paste. These ones have shredded pork in ‘em. Go on, dig in!”

Hanzo cut a piece of the tamale, blowing on it lightly before taking a bite.

Oh, _fuck._

“It’s good huh?”

“Ah,” Hanzo muttered, swallowing his bite. “Sorry, I did not mean to say that aloud.”

McCree laughed, waving away the apology, “Hardly darlin’, that’s the highest compliment a chef can hear, if you ask me.”

“You said your mother used to make these?” Hanzo asked, digging into the tamale once more.

“Yep,” McCree quipped, leaning against the bar. “She would make them every two weeks on the dot and make enough for a small army. It was my job to mix the masa.” He grinned. “She said it would give me strong arms to impress the girls.”

Hanzo smiled, wiping his mouth on the cloth napkin. “And did it?”

“Oh, sure,” McCree scoffed, flexing his arms dramatically. “I mean look at these! Who could resist!”

Hanzo raised a brow, “They are certainly arms.”

“Ah, you wound me, _hermoso_ , how will I recover?”

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Hanzo smirked, enjoying the banter they struck up.

McCree smiled brightly at him, he seemed to do nothing but smile the entire evening. Hanzo couldn’t help but be flattered at the attention, even though that niggling doubt tickled the back of his head… Did McCree truly not know who he was?

Hanzo almost desperately hoped that he didn’t. This was easily one of the best meals he had ever had, and it wasn’t just due to the amazing new food. The company was also… quite pleasant. He finished up the tamale and munched on the rice while McCree spoke of his youth in the kitchen, ranging from awe at his mother’s recipes to annoyance at doing all the dishes himself. Every now and then he would stop and rub his left arm above the elbow and Hanzo couldn’t help but be curious about that story as well, not that he would ask.

Once he was finished with his main course, McCree swept up his plate, “I hope you left room for dessert, _hermoso_ , I’ve got a real treat for ya.”

Warmed by the alcohol, food, and company, Hanzo couldn’t help his lazy smile, “I look forward to it.”

Something must have slipped into his words, as McCree’s face took on a definite rosy hue before he cleared his throat and disappeared into the kitchen. It may not have been one-hundred percent intentional, but Hanzo quite liked the result of his possibly suggestive comment.

_Dessert, indeed._

 

 

McCree was situated at the bar next to Hanzo, the store sign long flipped to closed as they sat close, using toothpicks to stab at the little sopapillas piled high on the plate between them. McCree stuck one in his mouth, obviously enjoying the sweetness of the honey and sugar on his tongue.

Hanzo popped another in his mouth, chewing slowly as if trying to commit the flavor to memory. McCree took a sip of the bourbon he held loosely in his other hand, Hanzo watched the movement carefully. They had been quiet these last few minutes, just enjoying their treat and the pleasantness of easy company. Hanzo had rolled up his sleeves, revealing more of his tattoo, and he couldn’t help but notice the way the other man’s eyes seemed to trace it.

Poking at a hapless sopapilla puff, Hanzo cleared his throat. The question of the night still burned strongly in the back of his mind, it itched like hot pepper at the base of his throat and he had to know.

“Do you…” He started, sensing McCree look up to his face as he spoke. Hanzo’s eyes never left the plate. “Do you know who I am, McCree?”

“Other than my new favorite customer?” The other crooned softly.

“McCree.”

Next to him, the chef let out a little sigh, “Yeah. Yeah, I know who you are, Hanzo Shimada.”

Hanzo couldn’t help but jolt at hearing his full name come from McCree’s mouth. Shit, he knew it. He knew it was too good to be true. This wasn’t just two chefs appreciating food, McCree knew who he was, he—

“You caused quite a stir in the local circles, ya know,” McCree continued, interrupting Hanzo’s minor crisis. He shifted his half-lidded eyes over to meet the critic’s gaze. “Half the local joints were getting’ all uptight thinking you were gonna swan into their dining room and ‘cause a storm.”

Hanzo sputtered a bit at that. Was that really the reputation he had?

“I got real excited though,” McCree went on, a small smile dancing on his face and he brought a hand up to ruffle his beard. “I thought, ‘man, if I can get Hanzo Shimada in my restaurant, I’m gonna serve him my favorites and ask him one thing.”

Perplexed, Hanzo met the other’s gaze, “What could that possibly be?”

McCree’s face split into a wide, sleepy grin, utterly relaxed and only a little cheeky. “Would you cook with me?”

Hanzo was brought up short. “What? You want me to cook… with you?” He blinked. “I… No one has ever, in my few years of critiquing food, invited me into their kitchen.”

“Now that’s a right shame,” the chef sighed, pulling out a cigarillo from his breast pocket and lighting it with practiced ease. He turned away to exhale and propped his head against his hand on the bar. “I remember reading up on you in an article once, back when you just made executive chef at your first restaurant.”

McCree took another drag of his smoke, “I’d just bought this place at the time. Lucky find, here, this plaza is a prime spot and I thank my stars every day I get to claim it as my own. Reading about you climbing your way to the top in that article… I dunno, had an effect on me.” He chuckled. “Havin’ you here now… almost doesn’t feel real.”

Hanzo couldn’t collect his thoughts. “So, this… Making me this meal was—”

“Now I know what you’re thinkin’,” McCree interrupted. “And it’s real important that you know that I didn’t do all this to impress you as a critic.”

“If not that, then why?” Hanzo asked.

“Well, I admit a little of it was to impress ya as a chef.” McCree gave an embarrassed chuckle, letting his soft gaze settle on his companion’s face. “But I mostly just wanted to cook my best food for the man who inspired me. Maybe inspire him a little bit, too.”

Hanzo’s gaze shot back to the countertop, unable to meet the sincere look on his companion’s face as he processed. He stared at the last few sopapillas on the plate, thinking back on their evening meal. McCree had been a gracious host, natural charisma bringing out some of the most genuine smiles Hanzo had felt grace his lips in a long time.

Not to mention his food had been incredible.

And that was the other thing—Jesse was the first chef who took an interest in Hanzo’s cooking. No one else ever wanted to see him cook, they always focused on impressing him with their own culinary expertise. It was almost as it they forgot he was a _chef_.

But McCree wanted to taste his food. He wanted to cook with him and work with him, build creations together. McCree found fun in the kitchen, a joy that Hanzo realized he hadn’t felt in a long time. Cooking for someone… Cooking _with_ someone, hell, it had been far too long. The entire prospect delighted as much as flustered him.

Hanzo honestly was not used to this kind of attention.

Willing the redness from his face, Hanzo finally turned to face the other chef. He met McCree’s eyes with a playful haughtiness, eyes catching briefly on McCree’s lips, “You would have to follow my lead in the kitchen, and I have been told I can be rather bossy on the line. I expect perfection in everything I serve, and I trust you to hold up to that standard.”

McCree eyes lit up and his smile was nothing short of challenging and delighted. It sent a thrilling shiver down Hanzo’s spine. McCree leaned in close, breath smoky and sweet, tobacco and honey dancing in the scant air between them. “Yes, chef.”

 

=x END x=

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations | Click "Back" on Browser to Return**  
>  hermoso - handsome  
> Ojo Rojo - Red Eye
> 
> Not Beta-read. Or... edited really. I'm a lil brain-dead but also excited to post this, so expect this to be slightly reworked in the future HAAA.
> 
> Oh hey, I'm a hot mess, I hope you enjoyed the fic!!!! I need more chef!AU in my life, i love them so much.
> 
> Mmmmkay love ya, have a nice day peeps!!
> 
>  
> 
> Links --> [[Carrd]](https://gabesbeanie.carrd.co/) | [[Twitter]](https://twitter.com/GabesBeaniee)
> 
>  
> 
> // disclaimer -- i'm not a food expert, i just love to eat it. so if anything is like... totally wrong, i'm sorry. :V //
> 
> UPDATE:  
> Inspired by user CrazySerpent who patiently educated me on the cultural significance of Fry Bread, I'm including a link to the Navajo Relief Fund here. While it is important to share and acknowledge the many cultures around us, it is equally important to understand and be educated about their history and significance. I reworked that segment in the fic, but chose to keep it in so that we all may use this as a learning experience! Please join me in [donating to the Navajo Relief Fund](http://www.nativepartnership.org/site/PageServer?pagename=nrf_howtohelp) if you are able, and please read CrazySerpent's comment for more info! Thank you all!!


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